


Narcissa

by asexual_dinosaur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 19:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexual_dinosaur/pseuds/asexual_dinosaur
Summary: Narcissa Druella Black wasn’t on the sky.All of her family shone at night, drawing beautiful patterns of light and making the darkness seem more beautiful than it could ever be. But she was stuck on the earth, fragile and lost, staring only at her own reflection and nothing else.She was alone.





	Narcissa

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Walburga](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/494962) by Ster. 



> Well, hello there!
> 
> This is my first work here at AO3, so I'm still learning how to use the platform; if you noticed any tags/warnings/whatever that I missed, please let me know so I can add it.
> 
> This is also one of my favourite works, so... I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. =^.^=
> 
> (I don't know the age order of the Black kids, but I placed it like Adromeda - Bellatrix - Sirius - Narcissa - Regulus, with one year in between each. Hope I've made it clear in the story, but just in case I haven't...)

Narcissa Druella Black wasn’t on the sky.

All of her family shone at night, drawing beautiful patterns of light and making the darkness seem more beautiful than it could ever be. But she was stuck on the earth, fragile and lost, staring only at her own reflection and nothing else.

She was alone.

…

Narcissa didn’t care much about blood. She never did.

She couldn’t think of anything more stupid to hate a person for than the origin of their magic. Pureblood, halfblood, mudblood… What did it matter? They were all people, weren’t they? They were all magical, all wizards, and what did it matter where their magic came from? That didn’t make any sense for her; it never did.

But she was afraid.

Narcissa Black wasn’t brave like her big sister, nor like her cousin. They had looked their parents in the eye and turned away. Andromeda had left at night, after telling everyone that she was pregnant from her boyfriend, a _mudblood_ who she loved more than anything, except maybe the tainted baby she carried so proudly. Her parents wanted to get rid of it first thing in the morning, so she ran away during the night, when no one could see her, except for Sirius and Narcissa, both hiding in the shadows, unaware of each other.

Sirius had laughed. The barked laughter Walburga had always found disturbing. He had laughed out loud and told exactly what he thought about their stupid marriage rules. He had looked Orion dead in the eye and told him where he could shove his Durmstrang threats. Then, he had left in plain sight, for everyone to see just how much he despised that family and everything it believed in.

They were brave. Really brave. They could do such things, they had the strength to stand up for what they believed in and they weren’t so weak they’d back down at the first evil glare. Same thing for Bellatrix. She was on her family’s side, and she believed in blood purity and such values, Narcissa had no doubts that she did. Bellatrix was strong, cruel, and a perfect servant for the Dark Lord. She had taken the Dark Mark in her seventeenth birthday, gladly. She was a warrior, and she was meant to make her family proud.

And there was Regulus. He didn’t seem strong like his cousin. He was shy and quiet. He never talked much about school or his plans afterwards, and he got only darker and quieter and somewhat melancholic after his brother left. He was only thirteen, then – only a year younger than her – and he was already so much like Orion. After school, maybe even before that, he would take the Dark Mark and fix the stain his brother had left in the Black family tree. He was quiet and dark, but he had always been her favourite.

Regulus was her everything. He told her all that his brother told him and all her sisters wouldn’t tell her. He was younger, but so much wiser. She helped him study and he made her happy. He was the one she went to whenever she had a nightmare, and she was the one he turned to when he had a problem. She knew he loved Sirius more, way more than he could ever love her, but this didn’t keep her from loving him more than she’d ever loved anyone or anything. He would never love her back, though, especially the way she loved him, because Narcissa was weak.

So, so weak.

She could never take the Dark Mark, for she was scared of being in pain and causing pain. She was scared of what the Dark Lord would do to her and what she would have to do to prove him her loyalty. She didn’t want to be a Death Eater, she just wanted to be in peace.

Luckily, Druella didn’t want both her daughters to be warriors. She wanted one of them to be a mother.

It was clear that Bellatrix could never be a mother. She was given a righteous husband and married as every woman should be, but Narcissa doubted she had ever even consumated such matrimony. They would never speak of such things – it wasn’t a woman’s place to do so – but she could tell that if a woman was occupying Rodolphus Lestrange’s bed, that woman was surely not Bellatrix.

…

When she became a woman herself, she was thirteen. Her father decided she was to get married soon, but Druella, who had always commanded her husband, told him it was stupid. She’d marry when she was seventeen and done with school, and not a second sooner. Bless her mother, Narcissa would think.

At first, Bellatrix’s brother-in-law wanted to marry her. Rasbatan Lestrange had told Cygnus all of his plans for her, and all that their families could be if they were united by one more matrimony. At first, it looked like Cygnus was going to take it – he liked the Lestranges, as they were his cousins –, but then her mother, her blessed, blessed mother, stepped in.

She didn’t like the Lestranges.

Maybe it was because they scared her as much as they scared Narcissa, or maybe because she didn’t want any more alliances with a family that was rapidly falling in disgrace – no one else seemed to see it, but Druella said so with such a firm tone, no one dared doubt her –, or merely just because she liked her daughter, but that last one would be against their very nature.

And then, July the 2 nd , 1978, she put on a beautiful wedding dress and covered her face with a long, diaphanous veil, and walked along an aisle with roses in her hands and tears in her eyes. She married Lucius Abraxas Malfoy that day, and she was scared.

She had seen him in Hogwarts. He was six years older than her, but she had caught him admiring her every now and then. All the girls said he was handsome and she was lucky to have a man like him paying attention to her, but for her, he would never be as special as Regulus.

“You don’t have to be afraid”, he told her as he closed the bedroom’s doors, “I won’t hurt you”.

He lied, of course. She didn’t think he had meant to, but he lied. It hurt. When his lips touched hers, they were cold, colder than any lip should be. When his fingers lingered in her skin, they were rude, ruder than any finger should be. When he revealed her body and his eyes feasted on her nudity, they were hungry, hungrier than any eye should be.

Narcissa cried all night long, her body hurting and bleeding. Lucius had tried to comfort her, but she was scared of him and tried to escape his embrace and soft voice, so he got dressed and left the room.

They didn’t share a bed again for several months. He didn’t touch her, nor dared to look her in that way ever since their first night. He was polite and gentle and called her “my love” and offered her the world.

…

They lived in the Malfoy Manor now, with no one but his father, old Abraxas Malfoy, for company. It was a quiet way of life, and Narcissa found she liked it.

There were no boundaries in the Malfoy Manor. She could go to any part of the library, to every chamber, command any house elf, do whatever she wanted. She had the main bedroom only for herself, and Lucius didn’t seem to want to do much more than kiss the floor where she walked.

“I realise my son doesn’t share a bed with you”, Abraxas had commented one day, as they both sat outside. She drew a landscape, he read a book.

“Indeed, he does not.”, her voice was cold and solid, for she could not bear to break now. She was a lady now, this was her house, and she wouldn’t let anyone make her sorry for it.

“Did you put him out, my dear?”.

Narcissa turned to the old man, an apology already in her pale lips and scared eyes, but Abraxas smiled playfully. She regained control of herself.

“No, he left on his own”, was all she said. Abraxas nodded.

“You might’ve just met him, my dear, but my son has watched you for a long time. He believes you to be his one princess and queen, his love. He will not hurt you again. If you could give him a chance… Well, I’m old, you see, and I’d like to meet my grandchildren before leaving this Earth for good”.

So he stood up, picked his cane, and left the garden.

…

She entered Lucius’s chambers that night. They were finely decorated and beautiful and large, but she knew it was never meant for the house’s king. The windows were too small, the curtains were too simple, the walls were too pale. It was a guest’s room, and she could think of no bigger humiliation for a man than to hide in the guest’s chambers of his own house.

She felt sorry for him, as she didn’t feel sorry for anyone in a long time.

He sat on the bed, shirtless, reading a book about dark magic before going to sleep. His long hair was held away from his face by an elegant bow, and his grey eyes were locked on the page with some kind of rage she had only seen once, in eyes much gentler and much darker – eyes she loved more than anything in the world, and which she missed everyday. Eyes that would never look at her the way she looked at them.

He lifted his head as he heard the door closing. He studied her with a trace of the hunger she had seen that night, a hunger she hadn’t seen ever since, a hunger she had dreamed of. Her hands trembled, but she forced them to stop. Slowly, eyes locked in his, she slid off her dress, leaving it on the floor, and climbed into bed. Lucius put his book aside and held her as she accommodated herself in his lap.

“Milady...”, he whispered, watching her lips “My love…”

She felt his eyes sliding through her body, feasting on the sight of the pale, delicate skin.

“I’m here”, she responded, allowing herself to touch his chest “I’m yours”.

He didn’t hurt her that night. Nor in the next one, nor in the one after that.

It took her a while to learn and enjoy being being with him. It was uncomfortable at first, but she went back again and again until she could finally sigh of satisfaction like he did and moan his name like he moaned hers. They didn’t share a bed, still. Every night, after he loved her and made her his, she climbed out of bed, got dressed and went back to her own chambers, where she slept alone.

…

Eventually, she got pregnant.

She only found out when her parents demanded a visit, and the Tapestry connected her to Lucius by a golden string slowly building another branch of the long tree. Narcissa pretended like she already knew, and Lucius pretended like he didn’t care. As they got home, however, she could see the hurt and the joy in his eyes.

“How long have you known?”, he asked.

“As long as you have.”, she admitted.

“My love…”, he kissed her hands, her arms, her cheeks… Finally, she let him kiss her lips, and for the first time, Narcissa was actually _kissing_ a man.

It wasn’t just a mindless mouth movement, like in bed. It wasn’t intense like it was under the sheets, but it wasn’t distant like then. It finally felt _warm_ , not just _hot_ , and it made her heart beat faster, and he touched her waist with care, not just hunger.

She found she liked that.

Abraxas became radiant when they told him. The man smiled brighter than the sun, and he hugged her. The only person who had ever hugged her was Regulus, and she had missed it. The hug lasted longer than appropriate, but Abraxas didn’t seem to want to let go any more than she did.

“You must think of a name! Decorate the nursery! Find someone to take care of him!”

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy yet, Father.”, Lucius tried, but was shushed by Abraxas’s angry look.

“Of course it’ll be a boy! I feel it in my knee! You’ll see.”

From that day on, she was more spoiled than she had ever thought she would be. Lucius would come for her from five to five minutes, asking if she needed anything; they shared a bed once again, and he didn’t do so much as touch her if she didn’t ask. Abraxas would insist she sat on her favourite spots even if they were the most appropriate for a man his age. Two house elves would be with her at any second to attend her every wish. Narcissa was happy for the first time in her life.

…

Regulus died.

Without a warning, without any kind of preparation, he died. Left in a mission for the Dark Lord – she didn’t even know he was a Death Eater already – and never returned. And her world was greyish again.

For a whole week, Narcissa didn’t leave her chambers. She didn’t talk to Lucius or anybody. She ate forcibly because she knew her baby needed it. He left her chambers again, and she wasn’t sorry this time. Abraxas would come by every other day, his cane in a hand and a book in the other. He’d sit by a wall and read all day long without making a sound. She didn’t stand looking at him.

“You loved him”, the man’s eyes said, and she couldn’t deny that. “You loved him more than you ever loved my son”.

And none of that was a lie.

In her dreams, Narcissa saw Regulus again. He came out of the water, laughing as if he had been simply swimming. He held her hand and kissed her cheeks.

“Hello, Cis”, he’d say excited as she was to see him “C’mon, the water’s great!”.

Sometimes, it wasn’t an appropriate dream like that. Sometimes, she dreamed Regulus was in bed with her, and he touched her like Lucius did, and he kissed her like Lucius did, and he loved her like she loved him. And she would wake up, a moan in her throat and his name in her lips. She’d feel ashamed for it, but in her dreams, Regulus was a better lover than Lucius could ever be, and she liked being in bed with him, even if only in her mind.

Her grieve was cut off by a sharp pain in the middle of the night. She woke up feeling desperate and screamed like she heard Sirius scream in the basement. Lucius invaded her room mere seconds later, and the sheets were wet and heavy.

Despite those first pains, her first and only son was born easily and calmly. Pale like his parents, he didn’t cry much. She wanted to name him Regulus, after her lost love, but the Black tradition demanded she named him after a star that was on the sky when he was born. And Leo was nowhere to be seen that night, so he was named after one of her favourite constellations: Draco Lucius Malfoy.

After that night, Lucius came back to their chambers, but she didn’t spend her nights there any more. She woke up not soon after she had fallen asleep and went to the nursery. The nanny had said she shouldn’t disturb her baby, but Draco didn’t seem disturbed by his mother’s visits. She would only watch him for a while, and whenever he cooed or moved or gave any signal of being about to wake up, she took him in her arms. It kept him from crying and seemed to heal her bleeding heart.

…

Narcissa didn’t smile much. She hadn’t smiled since she was thirteen and Cygnus started to try and find a husband for her. She could barely remember what it felt like, but when Draco laughed at her for the first time, she smiled brightly and truthfully. It was an afternoon of July, 1980. They sat outside, Abraxas reading, Lucius thinking, she admiring her beautiful, beautiful baby, when a butterfly made its way over Draco’s stomach. The boy laughed at the colourful wings, and she smiled at the most beautiful and magical thing she had seen in her life.

She didn’t notice, but Lucius stared at her as if he had seen the starry night sky for the very first time.

The Dark Lord fell. Her whole family was arrested – even Sirius, and although she was sure it had been a mistake, she didn’t say a thing. Lucius lied and paid to escape prison. He rattled on some Death Eaters and promised her it would be okay. He was doing it to protect their family, their son. He wasn’t going to Azkaban, even if he had to rattle on his colleagues. Their family was more important.

At first, she believed in him.

Draco grew up to be spoiled, and she knew that. He ran around the house with no limits – she could never bring herself to impose them to him like her parents did to her – and no one would say “no” to him. Abraxas loved the boy more than anything and would play with him all day long. Narcissa would stop anything at the sound of his voice and attend his every request, whatever it was. He was her prince, her love, the only thing keeping her sore, cracked heart together.

…

She loved Lucius. Five years after Regulus died, she learned how to love him. But she would never love him as much as she had loved her cousin, or how she loved her son. Her love for him was pale, cold and self built, not imposed like it had been the others. She taught herself how to feel that way, and it took her effort. He didn’t enchant her like Regulus had, and didn’t steal her heart like Draco did. She loved Lucius in cold gestures and distant gazes. He touched her in bed and she touched him still thinking of another man, practically a boy. He kissed her lips and she kissed his in a rehearsed movement, never going further than they had the first time.

They weren’t miserable, but they were far from happy.

He still treated her like a goddess and she never denied him any request. But she was queen and he was not king. Not in her eyes, anyway.

It wasn’t long until she knew Lucius didn’t like his son. He spent almost all day long in his study ever since the boy learned how to walk, and even though she wanted to ask him about it, she was too scared to. Abraxas never made any comments, although he stared at his son with a sad look every time they were together. Sometimes, he showed up to lunch smelling like alcohol, and she tried to ignore it, but her face was quite telling.

Draco was ten years old and Abraxas had just died.

She knew he loved him more than he loved his own father, and so did Lucius. The boy locked himself in his chambers for a whole week, and she could hear him sobbing through the closed door. Lucius prohibited any house elf to take the boy any food – “if he’s hungry, then he should leave that bloody room and come to the kitchen!” –, but he could never make her obey him. She took him food and kissed his forehead. He cried in her arms and told her how he missed his grandpa.

Finally, Lucius had had enough. Acting as if he just wanted to get closer to his son, he brought the boy to his study every day, and they remained in there for long hours. Narcissa became lonely again, although she kept telling herself Draco was happy, and that was what mattered.

Hogwarts came, and her only joy left.

The house was dark and empty without Draco’s voice calling her from the hallways. It was cold without Abraxas’s bright smile. And it was scary with the smell of alcohol that came from Lucius’s study. Often, she’d eat alone, just her and an empty plate across the table, silence filling her ears and loneliness filling her chest. She told herself it was only until Christmas, then Easter, and then there’d be the summer break. It was just until Christmas…

But Christmas was too far away.

When Draco returned, she saw what Lucius had been doing to her sweet little boy. His letters had been amazed by the castle’s wonders, and she had been blind to her husband’s work. Her sweet, sweet little boy was now a mirror of his father. The way he talked about muggleborns and the Weasleys… Oh, she felt betrayed. She had been.

“Why?”, she asked “Why did you do it? Why did you turn Draco into… _You_?”

He stared at her as if he didn’t stand being questioned. She knew he didn’t. She didn’t back off.

“Because” his voice was harsh “don’t you see what my father had turned him to? Don’t you realise what our son was going to be? I had to fix him, Narcissa! I was _not_ going to have a faggot tainting this family! Not like Sirius tainted yours!”.

Oh.

Narcissa left their chambers once again that night, like she hadn’t done in years. She went to the backyard and stared at the night sky, the Canis Majoris as bright as ever, maybe a little bit more.

She had known. Of course she had known all the time, Sirius had told everyone in the family dinner, barked it out for the whole family to hear.

“Guess what? I’m in love with a man. A _halfblood_ ”.

“I’m not going to have a faggot tainting this family!”.

But Draco wasn’t… He… He couldn’t be… Could he?

…

The Dark Lord was back.

He came crawling, demanding shelter at the Manor, him and the rest of his Death Eaters. Lucius let them in with a smile, practically begging for forgiveness from them all. And from that moment on, they were ruined. Narcissa knew it just like Druella knew about the Lestranges. And the Dark Lord didn’t fall behind in making it clear. Humiliations weren’t rare. He took every opportunity to make sure everyone knew how low the Malfoys were now.

Lucius was arrested.

And, before she knew it, her son was being Marked.

Her beautiful, sweet, precious little boy was a Death Eater. The skull was branded in his forearm, the snake pacing in the white skin. She could hear him crying when the night came and it hurt. The Mark, the threats… And the mission. A mission everybody was sure he was going to fail. Just one more way to prove to everyone that the Malfoys were nothing but a fallen family.

She turned for help.

She had always been weak, and she was afraid that trait had passed to him. She knew Draco, and he was just a boy. He was not a Death Eater, nor a murderer. He was just a boy, and he wasn’t going to be able to kill Dumbledore – or so she hoped. So, she turned to Snape, who had taken care of him in Hogwarts, who had been his hero. And he took the Unbreakable Vow. And she knew it was going to be okay.

Still, her little boy was breaking and she knew it. Every failed attempt to accomplish his mission was reported to the Lord. Every failure of his resulted in an hour of torture for her. She knew the Lord was making sure Draco saw those things through the Dark Mark, and she just hoped her son had become as cold and distant as his father had taught him to be, but she also hoped he hadn’t.

Day and night, her husband’s words echoed in her mind, keeping her awake and scared.

“I’m not going to have a faggot tainting this family!”.

Oh, what would the Dark Lord say if he knew? What would her sister, he crazy, crazy sister, do if she knew?

It was no surprise to Narcissa when she walked in on her son’s chambers one morning and he wasn’t alone in bed. She recognized the boy who hugged him: Theodore Nott. His parents were living in there, too, and the boys had been spending almost every night together, mostly talking – or so did people think. But their clothes were on the floor and their chests were full of hickeys and they held each other so tightly, like they feared the other would disappear if they let go.

“I’m not going to have a faggot tainting this family!”.

She closed the door and made a promise to herself she would never let anyone find out.

…

The Ministry had fallen. Scrimgeour was dead.

Lucius was back home, and the smell of alcohol was stronger than ever. Again, he hurt her at night. She cried herself to sleep, and he didn’t seem to care, or notice. Her neck, tights and torso were quickly covered in bruises she hid under long dresses and posh capes. There was fresh blood in their sheets every night, and the house elves didn’t bother to change them any more.

She used to be queen, and now she was nothing.

It was Easter when Harry Potter appeared in her manor. She knew it was him, it had to be. Didn’t say a thing, though. She had watched them torturing that girl, that goblin and that wand maker. She watched as they tortured the muggleborn, and didn’t say a word when Harry Potter got away. There had been a punishment, but she never once thought about blaming Draco for it, like Bellatrix did. She never once thought about blaming Draco for being as weak as her.

…

“I’m sorry”, Lucius said one night. He had hurt her again, and she could barely feel it any more, watching the ceiling blurred by her tears, her tights and wrists burning from his touch. “I’m sorry, my love”.

He disgusted her. But he was the only thing she had left when Draco was gone. So she forgave him.

He never again touched her. He slept on the floor by her bed because there were no other rooms left, and he never looked at her hungrily like he used to. He never again touched anyone, not even himself.

She did, though. The dreams about Regulus were back, beautiful, beautiful dreams where he took her swimming in the starry sky, and he kissed her neck quietly and he said he loved her. Regulus was good for her, even though he was dead. She woke up with his name on her lips and her hands inside her vests. A part of her hoped Lucius never found out. Another didn’t care at all.

…

When Harry Potter showed up in Hogwarts, she had already lost all hope.

They followed the Dark Lord because they were Death Eaters and that was what they did. Wandless, she remained in the Forest with other unmarked wives, just waiting for their husbands and children to come back. Some of them didn’t.

“Draco. Is he alive? Is he in the castle?”

Oh, maybe she was a fool for doing it. Maybe it would be her ruin, her final move. Maybe it would be the last words she had ever spoken. But she could never, _ever_ , just give up. She wasn’t thinking about saving Potter’s life. She wasn’t even thinking about saving the Wizarding World. No, she was only thinking about her son, somewhere in the castle, scared, maybe hurt, maybe wondering where she was, maybe alone.

“Dead”.

…

Narcissa smiled only three times in her life.

When Regulus was sorted into Slytherin with her, when Draco laughed for the first time, and when she found him in the Great Hall, hurt and bloody and tired and scared and alive. She held him close, not once thinking about the fact that her sister had just died, or that the Dark Lord was gone, or what was going to happen next. She just kissed his forehead and his cheeks and the top of his head and every inch of his skin she could reach. He hid his face in her neck and she heard him sob.

Time seemed to run faster after that.

Trial after trial, her world fell apart. Everyone she knew was being thrown away, and soon she’d be alone. In July, Lucius’s trial took place, and not every galleon they’d ever possessed and not every name they’d ever known could save him from Azkaban this time. He was allowed no goodbyes and no last wishes. She watched as they carried him away with a tear in her eye and ice in her heart. He had been a good husband, all things considered, but he had never been a good man.

Andromeda was there for her trial. She stood by Draco’s side, her eyes wet, her face tired, her arms heavy with the weight of her grandchild. She stood by her side during Draco’s trial too, and she took them to her house afterwards.

“I missed you, sis”, she whispered as if it was some sort of secret “I’ve been worried about you.”

Narcissa missed her, too.

Then, Draco was going back to Hogwarts one last time. And he came back holding Theodore Nott’s hand, saying he loved him and asking his mother permission to break all of the rules and be happy for once.

“ _I’m not going to have a faggot tainting this family!_ ”.

“He’s not tainting this family, Lucius”, she thought, as she walked her son down the aisle with tears in her eyes “You were”.

…

The fourth time Narcissa smiled, she was only forty. Draco came to her home – he and Theodore lived away now, in London, while she shared a house with her sister and her grandnephew, without any of the luxuries she had been used to, for the Ministry had taken them all away. But it was okay; she liked her new life better. – with a smile in his face and a baby girl in his arms.

“Her mother died in the hospital.”, he told her, somehow still smiling “She has no one left; no name, nothing. Theodore and I are adopting her”.

And so, Narcissa had a granddaughter, Cassiopeia Narcissa Malfoy-Nott.

She smiled many times after that; every one of them were to this child who had not a single drop of blood in common with her, but who she loved more than herself.

“Mum, have you met Scorpius?”.

Scorpius had been abandoned in the hospital, Draco explained. For all they knew, he was a muggle. But he had the hair of a Malfoy and the eyes of a Nott and only two years less than Cass, and he was the fourth and last love of Narcissa’s life.

…

Her grandchildren were adults, now. Cass had married James Sirius Potter, as everyone had predicted, and Scorpius was going somewhere with that Weasley girl, and Teddy and Victoire were parents. And Andromeda was dead. And she was back into the Malfoy Manor. One last time. She lived there with the house elves and Theodore and Draco swung by every other day, and so did the “kids”. Shaking and weak, she wandered the corridors, touching the old walls that had seen too much.

Narcissa Druella Black Malfoy wasn’t on the sky.

All of her family shone at night, drawing beautiful patterns of light and making the darkness seem more beautiful than it could ever be. But she was stuck on the earth, fragile and lost, staring only at her own reflection and nothing else.

She was alone.

She stared at them with a tear in her eye and a cup of tea by her side. Alone in a house that was too big for her and her cracked heart.

Maybe someday she’d fall asleep and wake up to Regulus by her side. Maybe one day she’d place her hand in her chest and feel her heart beat. Maybe one day she’d find she was happy.

But that day was still far away. Lost in the stars.

And she was stuck on the earth.


End file.
